


Staccato

by Puffinpastry



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Chronic Pain, Domestic, Dragon Quest XI Act II Spoilers, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 11:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffinpastry/pseuds/Puffinpastry
Summary: A staccato of old pain, that should long ago of gone away.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Staccato

Erik slept light. It was common knowledge among anyone he’d ever had to share a tent or inn room with that he would wake at the slightest sound, alert and ready to fight if need be.

Luckily enough for Jade and Serena, he also knew how to turn a blind eye to the many times he woke to them both leaving the tent, as discreetly as they could. It was nice of them both, to return that kindness later down the road when he and Eleven were the ones often sneaking away in the dead of night.

Years of sleeping rough had ingrained that habit so far into his brain, after saving his life more times than he ever cared to try and count, that Erik knew it likely wouldn’t ever be something he could break from. Even after a handful of years after he’d given up travel and settled down peacefully, and the worst intruders they’d gotten so far being a couple of buzzing mosquitoes in the summer or the odd field mouse or two, Erik was still awake at a pindrop. Still woke with the sun, too. 

So, for Erik, the little sleep he got was precious. He took no notice of the many times he woke to the creaking of the shutters in the wind, or a particularly loud call of a night bird, but those who woke him intentionally would know his wrath. 

So when for the sixth night in a row he was woken by a deep, shuddering breath from his husband, he knew something was wrong.

Eleven  _ never  _ woke him up. 

He would honestly prefer laying awake with pins and needles in an arm trapped under Erik’s (less than considerable) weight than risk waking him by freeing it. 

So the first night, after Eleven brushed it off as the result of a nightmare, Erik had no reason to doubt him. They both had their fair share of bad memories that came to haunt them. Instead of siccing his cranky vengeance upon him, he just asked if Eleven needed anything.

When the response he was given was a simple ‘no’, Erik did what Eleven always did for him, tucking Eleven’s head under his chin, and running his hand through his hair until they were both asleep again. 

The second and third nights, it was harder to dismiss. 

Reoccurring as they may be, it was odd for the nightmares to strike twice in a row, let alone three times. But still, Eleven did what he could to assure him that everything was fine.

The fourth night was when everything began to take a turn for the worse. 

Eleven didn’t just wake Erik with a noise, or a movement too fast. 

Erik was woken as Eleven moved away suddenly, his pillow gone, and instead sitting upright on the edge of the mattress. 

With only the tiniest bit of moonlight to see by, Erik could swear that he was shaking.

That night, he not only refused any of Erik’s offers of help, but left their room entirely, promising that he wouldn’t be gone long.

But Erik woke next to the pre-dawn morning, and a cold bed. 

Eleven hadn’t slept properly for almost a week at that point, and looked even worse in the daylight than Erik had expected. 

And yet he still acted as if nothing was wrong. 

As if his eyes weren’t ringed with shadow. As if Erik was completely blind. 

As if the fifth night wasn’t a repeat of the fourth, and even the sixth after that, making three nights in a row now that he went nearly entirely without sleep.

Everything had been fine for so long, Erik had nearly forgotten about Eleven’s tendency to try and suffer in silence, out of some misguided heroic something-or-other he didn’t care to put a name to.

Really, Erik had thought he’d grown out of this particular brand of nonsense.

But he wasn’t going to stand for it this time around. Not ever again. There was no world-ending threat looming above them. No monsters waiting to attack just out of sight.

They were at  _ peace _ , at long last. 

No grand destinies, no worldwide journeys, no Luminary duties.

Just each other.

This time, when Erik was rudely awakened, he was ready. In a flash, he’d turned the knob on the oil lantern, just barely enough to light, but it was still nearly too bright to handle after his rude awakening.

Eleven didn’t even try to make an excuse this time. He didn’t wait for Erik to again try to reason for him to come back to bed, to talk. 

“Ellie, wait.” Erik only just managed to catch his wrist before Eleven was gone. “Please,” Erik pleaded, only scarcely audible over the rain falling against the shuttered windows, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Eleven answered. 

Erik didn’t let go. “Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot?”

“You aren’t an idiot.” Eleven said, but he didn’t turn to face Erik. Didn’t try to pull away either, though. Erik wasn’t giving up yet.

“Neither are you,” he said, “so why are you acting like one?”

In the low light, he only shrugged.

At least he wasn’t denying it. 

But he still wasn’t talking.

_ “Ellie,” _ Erik tried again, making the stress in his voice as clear as possible. He wasn’t above groveling. For that matter, he wasn’t above blackmail. So help him, if Eleven didn’t spill, he’d go to both Gemma  _ and  _ Amber, and find the most embarrassing story they had to tell, and then take that story to Jade, and then Sylv, and  _ then  _ that story would be all over Erdrea in a matter of days. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Erik moved over the bed to press close against Eleven’s back. Finally letting go of his wrist in favor of wrapping his arms around Eleven’s middle. 

He’d stay here ‘til morning, if that’s what it took. 

Eleven tensed under his touch, just as Erik’s fingers brushed over the ridge of scar tissue on his chest. 

He wasn’t ashamed of that scar. Wasn’t ashamed of any of them, except possibly the nearly unnoticeable white line mostly hidden under his hair, from the time he’d given himself a concussion when they’d both gotten a little too excitable down in the storeroom of the salty stallion.  _ That  _ hadn’t been a fun lecture, from Sylv or Serena. 

But it couldn’t have been anything else that caused that reaction. 

The rain outside picked up tempo, and a crash of thunder rattled the glass in its pane. The rumble it made matched with the ache in Erik’s right shin, from the long-healed break from when he was a child.

It always acted up in storms like this, and there had been so many in the past few days, as storms blew in from the manglegrove with the summer winds. 

He’d hardly gotten a break from that pain, but that was just to be expected—

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Good goddess, Erik  _ was  _ an idiot. 

Broken bones weren’t the only things that would act up with the change in weather. 

And a scar like the one on Eleven’s chest… 

That would be more than enough to keep him awake. 

Erik’s hand settled over the starburst-shaped mark, not needing to see it to know where it begins, to know the way it stretched past his sternum, like a plant taking root. Or the branches of a lightning strike.

“You’re hurting.” Erik said, an observation. Not a question. It had taken him long enough to connect the dots. 

The scar had not troubled him before, but that didn’t mean anything. A wound like that… It made sense to think it would take time before the nerves healed enough to cause trouble. 

Eleven nodded, hands bunching into the blanket. 

What  _ didn’t  _ make sense, was why it was still a problem. 

They had supplies for this! After everything that they had dragged themselves through, they’d be more than just idiots not to keep medicine in stock. 

“Can I get you something for it?” Erik asked. There was a drawer full of nothing but medicinal herbs of varying strengths. Another packed with dried moonwart and neatly arranged bags of panacea. A cabinet stocked with various elixirs and potions. Somewhere in the back of Erik’s mind, he wondered if those things expired. “Anything at all?”

“... Doesn’t work.” Eleven finally said, leaning forward to rest his face in his hands. “I’ve tried everything. I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to wake you up. I can deal with this on my own. You don’t have to—” He was rambling. 

As if being woken up was the real issue here. 

_ “Eleven.” _ Erik interrupted, feeling like he was talking to one of the village children, scolding them for trying to sneak in and steal one of the many,  _ many  _ old weapons they had stored away to play with. “Do you really think that’s what matters right now?”

“You don’t sleep enough as it is.” Eleven said, finally,  _ finally, _ turning to face Erik, who unhooked himself just long enough to let Eleven lay back down. 

“I’d sleep better if  _ you  _ took care of yourself.” Erik retorted, but settled back down as well, pulling the heavy quilt Amber made for them back up, and pillowing his head on Eleven’s shoulder. “You’re going to go and see Serena tomorrow.” No questions. It wasn’t guaranteed that she would be able to help, but it would be a start in the right direction. 

“Okay.”

If nothing else… He was sure they could figure out something on their own, if need be.

Cobblestone was full of farming folk that had hurt themselves one way or another just going about their work. Surely they would have a remedy or two they’d be happy to share. 

Really, what had Eleven been thinking?

The rain was beginning to taper off, the sound of thunder growing distant.

The cicadas began to sing. 

“No more hiding pain.” Erik said, reaching blindly for Eleven’s hand, and lacing their fingers together. “‘You’ve gotta start letting me in.’ Isnt that what you told me?”

“I don’t think that’s what I said.” Eleven hummed, already sounding like he was drifting back off.

Good. If the pain was only coming with the weather, then that would be easier to deal with. That was something they could be prepared for. 

“It’s close enough.” Erik said, but didn’t press any further, confident that this time, Eleven was staying put. And if he was wrong… Well, then he would have every reason to  _ actually  _ get mad. 

Who knows, maybe that is what it would take to get Eleven to look after himself for once.

But when he did again wake, it was well after sunrise. For the first time he could remember, Erik actually slept in.

He could hear the sound of someone moving about in their cabin, the crash of a cast-iron skillet onto the stone floor.

Eleven was still asleep, creases of the pillowcase imprinted onto his face. 

Oh, well.

Someone had to get up, might as well be him.


End file.
